Mentally and Physically
by CeruleanMetCrimson
Summary: "The feeling of being alone was creeping up to me, slowly seeping into my skin. It was becoming a reality. N-No, this can't happen! Why do I have to suffer like this? Just because I said that no one understood me! This was a clear example, right here! They didn't understand, so they sent me here! ... The only person that understood me was... him." Pokeshipping! Rated T.


Hello! This is my second story, and this one is gonna have chapters. This one I wrote awhile back, but I'm revising it just so it would be a little better. The chapters are short, but I can assure you that the story is very interesting. It sorta relates to teen thoughts and stuff. It's more of a story about depression, but slowly gets happier. Please, R&R! You'll love it~! Well... Enjoy~!

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_'What am I doing here? Why is this necessary?'_

My mind focused on these questions as a pair of doctors led me to a small room. The feeling of being alone was creeping up to me, slowly seeping into my skin. It was becoming a reality. No... This can't happen! Why do I have to suffer like this!? Just because I said that no one understood me?! This was a clear example, right here! I'M STUCK IN A PLACE LIKE THIS BECAUSE THEY TOOK MY WORDS THE WRONG WAY!

...

Ugh, I need to calm down. Though it was eating me up inside just standing here with two idiot doctors, I knew I wasn't gonna get out of this place any sooner, not to mention what this place was. Adapting here would be hard though. Why WOULD I wanna adapt to a freak show like this? I mean, I'm not crazy, nor disabled. So, why am I here? Ugh, I wish I could ask my sisters that. They didn't even say a word to me. They're so stuck-up, I swear.

The doctors told me to take a seat in the air sealed room. I scoffed, and looked at the metal seat tucked under a matching table with a light bulb stuck in the ceiling. It looked like an interrogation room in my opinion. They repeated themselves with a little more aggression in their voices that time. I sighed. Is this how they treat other people? I mean, if this is a place where insane people go to get rehabilitation, don't you think they would treat them with a bit more generous and caring attitude?

The male doctor with a decent sized, but awfully shaved goatee pulled a pencil - annoyingly without an eraser- out of the pocket on his coat and gave it to me. The female doctor gave me a raggedy paper and told me to write. Write down my feelings. Everything that has happened to me through the years of suffering. All the stuff that I wanted to forget and wished to never happen again suddenly was all put on my paper, they said.

"I'm not going to," I said, "unless you tell me why I'm here."

The male doctor sighed, while the female gave me the 'you annoying-little-brat' look. They collaborated about it for a few minutes, then left the room only to come back with another paper with my name on it. The lady put in on the table with a nasty look on her face. Wow, I really pissed her off. I actually found it quite amusing, but I knew she'd get me back for it later.

Read it, one said. I couldn't really tell which one said it, because they both had the same pitch of voice. Being the hothead I was, I scoffed again, then picked it up, observing the details carefully. On the paper, was printed in the middle of the paper:

**M.C.S **

**Mental Care Society **

**Name:**

**Misty Waterflower**

**DOB:**

**5/5/1997**

**Hair Color:**

**Red**

**Eye Color:**

**Turquoise **

**Condition:**

**Suicidal - Lv. 2**

...

So, this is why I was here...?

My eyes widened as my hands slowly clenched into fists, starting the crush the paper. _No... Not the tears..._ I screamed inside. I had already been crying my whole ride there, but crying now would make me seem weak. Helpless. Well, I was, but what was the point in showing it? Just so they would feel bad for me? These sick people already locked me in a mental hospital, since when would they ever feel bad for me? Since when am I** suicidal**?

Complaining would be useless in a place like that. All of the stupid doctors have no clue of what sympathy is. I'd feel terrible for the child who had a mother or father like that. I'm glad I never had parents like that. My parents were so loving to me. I loved them so much. My mother would always take me the ice cream shop where we'd sit at the corner of the street. We'd play this game together where we'd have to look for yellow cars. And, when someone found one, the other had to pay for the ice cream. Though, my mom always lost on purpose. My dad, on the other hand, always took me fishing. I loved fishing. It was always my passion since I was a little girl. They were the best parents I could ever ask for.

... Too bad they're gone...

Being only 17, and having no parents was bad enough, but having my sisters completely change through the process of my parents passing was even worse. They have no idea how to take care of a kid. They didn't even care about me...! Pointing out the legitimate fact that I'm in a lunatic place like this proves my previous statement! I can't believe I dealt with them for nine miserable years of my life. Well, I did leave for about a year and six months because I traveled for awhile, but, I don't like to bring up my past. It only brings me to tears.

At that point, I complied with them completely. They asked me questions that related to my 'suicidal' image, and I answered them truthfully and with complete kindness. They all scoffed each answer I gave them, which kind of made me irritated. Though I didn't show it until they said they didn't believe any answer I gave them. Something inside of me broke; I became utterly pissed, and I made the biggest mistake by yelling at them.

They scoffed once again after my long lecture about how honest I was, and just forced me off my chair and pushed me into another waiting room with a bulletproof window. The window was thick, so I couldn't see much out of it besides the blurs of various doctors and patients walking passed me. I couldn't hear anything through the thick walls, which caused my fear to show. _Dang it! The tears! _Globules of salt water fell from my eyes and down my cheeks. I screamed, knowing that no one could hear me. Is this what depression feels like? My throat was burning and my emotions were overflowing. My sisters; my own blood locked me in a mental hospital.

...

**_"If I scream, will anyone hear me?" _**

...Now I understand... what this means...

After I was down with my hyperventilating and screaming, they led me to yet another room. This is your new room, they said. Nodding slowly, they opened up the prison looking door and let me walk in. They shut the door as I stepped in, causing me to flinch.

Inside the room, there was a bunk bed. It was old and raggedy, and honestly I was scared to sit on it. A couple feet next to the bed was an old sink with a old toothbrush and used toothpaste sitting in it. And next to that was their nasty toilet. It looked like a prison indeed.

... Hey... There was someone there in the bottom bunk. A girl. She seemed to be about my age, but I couldn't really tell since she was laying down, facing the wall. Her hair was was long, and was blue. Her hair color was definitely new to me, but my hair was a pretty rare color as well, so I didn't want to be a hypocrite.

She turned her head slightly to get a view of me, then looked back at the wall. It was pretty rude in my opinion, but, she had problems, so it was whatever to me.

"Uh..." I looked at the small bag of my belongings in my hand, and walked over to the sink. I looked at myself in the scratched, plastic mirror, and sighed. Those ugly doctors put my in some hideous clothes. Ew...

The girl lying down looked at me again, this time, scanning my looks. She was creeping me out a bit. I turned around, and she widened her eyes when our eyes met, and went back to looking at the wall. I sighed. _Should I say something?_

"Uh... Hi, there..." I said hesitantly. The girl turned her head once again, looking at me with her peripheral vision. I waited for an answer, but instead, she shifted her body towards me, then sat up.

"Hello..." She said quietly. The girl was actually very pretty. Her eye color matched her hair color almost perfectly, and she had a shy-looking, light-skinned face. Her response shocked me. I thought she'd say something crazy, like every mental person says, but she actually seemed sociable.

She looked down at her feet, and asked shakily, "What're you in here for...?"

"Oh, they think I wanna kill myself, but I don't..."

"...Oh."

"I wish I could leave though... I don't belong here at all."  
"That's what you think..." She looked up, leaving me a bit confused and irritated by her comment. "I thought I was fine before I came here too, but look at me now..."

I stayed silent for some time, just standing there, letting her words sink in. Her, on the other hand, went to laying back down.

"By the way, my name is Dawn... Dawn Berlitz."

"... Misty... Misty Waterflower." I replied, a little shaken as the comment clicked in my head. She seemed really nice, but shy, and a little too smart for my taste. I guess that's what happens to the broken...

... I felt the same happening to me as well...

By the time I was settled down, and brave enough to sit on the top bunk, I tried looking out of the small window in our door from my view on the bed. Like all the other hallways, there were doctors, patients, and what looked like officers walking through the cold, creepy asylum-looking hallways. This must be a nightmare. Anything but this. Even a nightmare like this would be too much. Though this wasn't a nightmare, which made the situation worse. I never let out my emotions. Only a few times in my life have I ever let out my true happiness, but, the person that gave me that happiness was long gone... Ever since then, all my answers would make me seem stuck-up. Was Dawn right? Does this place actually change you? No, she couldn't have been right... I'm gonna be fine... That breakdown that I had in that room before I entered this one was just because I was complaining... right...?

It took me awhile to fall asleep that night, hearing faint screams and big corridor doors slamming didn't help at all. I cried almost the whole time, and I think Dawn noticed. I could care less at that point. All I knew, is that my life would take a turn for the worse. I was better off with my sisters. The sisters that made me be a Gym Leader when I didn't want to. The sisters that made me do everything. The sisters that made me sit in the Gym for hours on end waiting for a stupid trainer. The sisters... that stuck me in this freaking mental hospital.

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Well, that's the first chapter! I tried to capture the more emotional side of Misty than the loud-mouth one, because we all know that she has that emotional side. I did try to add her irritation with the doctors and such, but it wasn't much since - once again - I tried capturing that emotion that she doesn't show much. I wanted to make it seem like her personality changes throughout this whole process, especially since she's a lot more fiery when she's around Ash. So, once he is brought up, her personality will need to change. Though, it will take some time to change.

Dawn, "the shy one", is gonna change as well. Since she seems to be a bit more girly and stand-down-ish (I know, bad grammar), I caught that shy side to Dawn. And, capturing that shy side adds to the problem that she struggles with.

Well, hope you liked it~! Please, no flames! But, constructive (Underline CONSTRUCTIVE) criticism. Thanks~!


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